The Girl I Left Behind
by peaceinapod
Summary: Jace looked down at the small phone in his hand. The only lifeline to her. He flipped it open, dialing the number. He waited with a painful hope beating in his chest. Hoping this time she would answer. It went to voice mailSighing he began to speak. "Cmon Clary. It's been a year. Please, I tried to move on...but I cant, please I just need to hear you one last time." CLICK "Hey Jace
1. Chapter 1

Maryse looked at the little boy curled up on the couch through the small window. "Well what do you think," asked the anxious looking social worker. Maryse shrugged with annoyance. The plump woman looked like she was ready to have an anxiety attack, but unfortunately for her Maryse did not like to be rushed. Giving the impatient woman a look that would have made a grown man cower.

It was a look for which she was famed for. She'd had many foster kids come into her home. Kids with terrible pasts came in the door with a rap sheet a mile long, and a tough kid attitude. Maryse didn't put up with any of it. It was this look that made her good at what she did. Maryse had the personality much bigger than her small, lean frame. She was fierce, and she projected an attitude that was not to be messed with. But what really defined her was compassion. Each and every kid that came through her doors was told the same thing, "You can fight till you die, and you can stay locked up inside. But while you fight the world, Im fighting for you. No matter what you do I'll never give up on you."

She had seen so many hardened trouble makers with an attitude a mile high. That was what she was known for. In a few short months she could turn around even the worst of them. The foster system sent her these kids, but she couldn't fathom what this boy could have done to make the list. Looking through the small window she saw a soul wracked with sadness, a lonely soul. But not the hardened and abrasive posture of a kid filled with anger.

Turning finally to the fidgeting social worker Maryse said, "Why has this boy been sent to me? What I see there is a grieving boy not a juvenile delinquent." The simpering lady jumped as if jerked awake by her words. "Oh, of course. His previous social worker called me very recently. I'm his fifth you see. Social worker I mean," she paused here to emit a series of nervous laughs. " He doesn't care you see. About anything, it's like he doesn't have a soul at all. His first group home kicked him out because the woman who ran it thought he was the devil. He was taken away from the second home because he attacked the man running it. A six year old boy..." she paused as if for emphasis raising her eyebrows as if expecting a scandalized exclamation. Seeing that she would get no such thing from the completely composed Maryse she continued.

"A six year old boy knocked a grown man unconcious. Can you imagine? By the time the ambulance got there the poor man had been hit over the head with his own beer bottle. Of course the boy claimed that he did it in self defense. Something about how the man beat him around when he drank. But you know how these kids are...they'll do anything for attention." The social worker stopped in her story as Maryse gave her a look of contempt that would have given the devil himself a panic attack. She nervously shuffled papers for a minute, taking a few short breaths and gathering the courage to continue. After a minute she looked up again with a look of false confidence pasted on her round face. "Of course the boy was charged with assault but really the fact that a six year old did that! His social worker at the time was appalled. He continued to cycle around group homes for the next five years. Before finally settling into a foster home supervised by Miss Rachel Thorn, a foster parent whose truly wonderful and has a reputation of helping some of the toughest kids with kindness. However she called me two days ago saying he was a child of satan. That he had no soul, and even her kindness was recieved with only sarcastic remarks and disrespect."

She paused to look up at Maryse to make sure she was paying attention. Seeing that she was, she continued. " She kicked him out. " Maryse interjected at this point, giving the social worker a look as if she was nothing but a slug under her foot. "All this story has shown to me is that your a despicably inept social worker, and that this boy has had a hard time in the system. While this story has been moving, you have not answered my original question... why is he on my list?" The social worker interrupted in her deceptively sweet voice. " Miss Lightwood...that was the last foster home in the area. We tried moving out of the area but with his reputation no one will take him. It's you or a juvenile detention center. Of course this is only a formality, I understand that you are a miracle worker and I've heard about you on the job. Your sort of a legend in the system. But you have many more juveniles with difficult backgrounds to work with. Someone as important as you has much more important things to worry about than an unfeeling twelve year old that's surely a child of the devil. I've already got the admission paperwork for juvie drawn up I just needed to follow protocol and explore all options."

The social worker finished this speech with a sickly sweet smile that dripped condescension. However her belittling speech was cut short by the shriveling glare Maryse was giving. The glare was the formidable kind of glare that a lion gives its prey...before eating it.

"Miss...Plume was it?" Maryse said this as a question though she knew perfectly well what her name was. She looked through her notebook pretending to be reading notes from its empty pages. "I'll do it."

The social worker jerked back in surprise, before smoothing her face back to her signature sticky sweet smile. "Darlin' you sure? I commend you for your ambition, but this is a child of the devil... of the devil." She repeated this much in the way one would talk to a five year old.

Maryse, however was having none of it. "Draw up the paperwork 'darlin'. Before I file a complaint against you. " **************************************************

Maryse laid her hand on the glass of the small window. Looking with compassion at the boy before her. His back hunched over. His small hands shaking. To think that a boy of twelve could be filled with so much sadness. The paperwork had been filled out and completed ten minutes ago, and yet she couldn't get her feet to move. Moments like this were the reason she was in the business. She thrived on the knowledge that she could change the fate of these kids. But something about this boy called to her.

Maryse laughed inwardly at her uncertainty. She was Maryse...she was always sure. Shaking her head she gathered up her purse and marched determinately into the room.

"Hello Jace," said Maryse. Reaching out a callused hand to the glaring boy in front of her.

"Are you the new babysitter" asked Jace with a menacing smirk. "I suppose," replied Maryse.

"Well guess what bitch. I don't need your help. Your in this for the money, right. Well lets agree now...I stay out of your way and you stay the hell out of mine."Jace said getting up off the couch.

Maryse regarded him for a minute, with a calm look. "My car's the black one in the spot to the left of the door."

Jace looked out the window of the car. Pressing his cheek against the cool glass. He stared out into the autumn trees calmly, but inside his thoughts were in turmoil. He tried to stay calm but all he could see were red curls, and a delicate face. Laughing, running hugging. The face was always the same, always the face of his Clary. His best friend, his longtime crush.

He tried to be excited for this new home. He kinda liked Maryse, the woman had guts. But he couldn't think about anything but leaving her. His family was gone, but Clary was always there. He couldn't picture life without her. He couldn't picture not seeing her at school everyday, or not playing soccer at the park. He knew it was this or juvie. Either way he would lose her. He tried to tell himself that she deserved better, but he couldn't because that made him think of the people that would take his place when he left. At this thought, Jace clenched his fist. His nails digging into his palm, his knuckles turning white as visions of Clary forgetting him assaulted his mind.

The click of the door shutting him pulled him out of his head.

"Where should we go to pick up your stuff?" Asked Maryse, starting the car engine with a soft purr.

This was it, this was his chance. "I don't care about that... could we just stop to say goodbye," asked Jace.


	2. Chapter 2

The car slowly rolled to a stop in front of a large victorian looking house. The house had two doors, one adorned with cozy homemade signs, that was obviously the entrance to a house. The other door was labeled simply with a large black sign reading, "Studio." Through this door streamed lines of teenagers, some carried dance shoes, some carrying musical instruments, and even more carrying art supplies. Jace jumped out of the car, walking slowly and steadily toward the house door. His posture almost leaned towards the door as if an invisible force was pulling him to the door, but with each step he projected the air of one walking towards their doom. Maryse watched curiously. The boy in front of her was not at all the one she had seen in the office. Here he felt comfortable, he obviously knew this place well. As if the mere place had stripped him of his bravado, he emerged a vulnerable and anguished boy.

Jace slowly shuffled across the cobble stones. Walking forwards and yet holding back. He knew that once this was over, this was it. He would never see her again. He slowly walked not quite daring to reach the door. The door opened in front of him, revealing a small frame with wild red curls, and a brimming smile. He involuntarily picked up the pace. Taking in a slight breath, he prepared to speak. She looked up with a smile, but as she saw the scene before her it slowly dissolved and gave way to concern.

Setting down the box of paints she was carrying, she rushed to the boy. She wrapped her arms around him and tucked her face into his chest. She let out a long breath. She'd known this day would come, but she never imagined it would come this soon. Jace drew a deep breath, " It's over. I have to go."

Clary squeezed him tighter. Jace's arms held her against him as if she would dissolve if he let go. "I'll miss you."

She stepped away, grabbing his hand. "Come with me," she said softly. "I have something for you"

She pulled him behind her, through the door, and up the old winding staircase. She walked quickly through the hall, before entering a small room plastered with drawings, and covered with paint splashes. "I have something for you. I couldn't let you leave without something to remind you of here."

She said, busily rummaging around the floor of her closet. Pulling out a larger wooden box, she handed it to Jace. The box was covered with small designs she had painstakingly painted. On the top was the inscription "So you never forget."

Jace let out a deep breath, reaching out to her with a shaking hand. He looked up at her with pleading look. "Just promise me that we'll see each other again."

She shed a single tear, and shakily whispered, "I promise."

As the car rolled away Jace pressed his face against the window. Turning his body so that Maryse wouldn't see the steady stream of tears making its way down his face. As the car rolled to a stop at the first traffic light, Maryse turned and spoke, "Is that everything?"

"Just drive"

When the plane finally landed, four hours later, Jace had pulled out of his sadness. He squared his shoulders, readying himself for whatever was coming. Only the trained eye could see the agony hiding in the corners of his eyes, or the defeat in his sagging shoulders.

Maryse finally pulled to a stop infront of a large sprawling house in a wealthy looking neighborhood. "Welcome to my home," she said with the first warm smile he had seen on her face. This place was obviously Maryse's happy place, but all he felt was dread.

They walked together up the walkway. Maryse walking forward quickly, while Jace sagged behind. The doors opened to reveal a large, but friendly looking man, and two children closer to his own age. Maryse greeted the children with a smile.

Turning to Jace she said, "These are my two kids. Isabelle is girl. She's twelve, same as you. The boy is Alec. He's fifteen. Max my youngest isn't here right now. You'll meet him later."

She looked expectantly at the kids who stuck out their hands, both introducing themselves at the same time. Jace stared at the hands. Overwhelmed, and shaking. But he refused to let go of his box to shake their hands, so he just looked nervously at their hands. Maryse watched with calm sincerity, but not with condescending pity. Seeing this, Jace and edged closer to her hip, as is her calm nature could shield him from the new life in front of him.

Sensing his fear Maryse excused them, saying "We're gonna go find a room for Jace."

They slowly climbed the stairs revealing rows and rows of identical rooms. "They're all the same, but if you would like to decorate we can go shopping later."

Jace shook his head vehemently, before running down the hallway and disappearing around a turn. Running into the very last room in the hallway, he emerged into a white room with a connecting bathroom. He shut the door quietly... not wanting to be found yet. He locked the door, and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He climbed on the bed, and set down his precious box. Staring at it uncertainly he sat for a while.

Finally he reached down and slowly pulled the lid off...

_This story is dedicated to my friend, who suffered unimaginable things in the foster system. I hope you found a home as lovely as Maryse's and I wish that someday I'll be able to keep my promise. I think about you everyday. I know I promised to see you again, but in the mean time I'm there in spirit. Your not alone..._

_Thanks to leasa1567 for my first review! I would love any of your suggestions, or critiques._

_And Once again, I'm looking for story recommendations for the Mortal Instruments. I like lots of angst, but ultimately a happy ending._


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey Readers,**

**So Ive decided on a cheeky, and strong Clary, because I got several notes about how funny badass clary would be, and I realized that doing that would cheapen the story. I'm not writing this story for amateur laughs. However I am drawing inspiration freve my readers who wanted a combination of the two. Thanks for everyone who gave box ideas. I'm using the photos, and a variation of the letter idea. **

**Ill hopefully have my next chap up by tomorrow;)**

**Peaceinapod**

Jace lay on his bed, staring uncomprehendingly at the ceiling. The sanitary white ceiling, with a few small cracks was as familiar to him as the back of his hand. He came here often to think.

Maryse had taken him in years ago as a foster kid. She treated him like she would her own son, and when his time there had expired she had moved to adopt him. Why, he couldn't fathom, but he fit in here. Filling his days with petty sibling arguments and childish pranks. But his evenings, were his.

It was an unspoken rule that the family leave him alone for the twilight hours. Through the thick door they heard the muted voice of Jace talking on the phone, the warbled voice of a girl from the phone... and laughter. In the time since Jace had come to them, he had settled in. Treating them with contentment, and calm, cool regard. But he never laughed...he never smiled. He was just the absense of a person.

Jace thought back to the day he opened the box.

_ He remembered fumbling with the lid, the image before him bluring with tears. He reached in and closed his fist on a worn blanket. The same blanket under which she had curled up with him, many times in the soft grass of the back yard. He'd brought the blanket up to his nose, smelling the warm scent of spring, fresh cut grass, and the strawberry scent that had always clung to her._

_He reached his hand in further, pulling out a small bundle of photographs. The photos, blurred by tears and a painful reminder of better times, were too hard to look at. He quickly shoved them into the bedside drawer, before reaching into the box once again._

_A string slid around his fingers, tangling in his long delicate hands. Pulling on it revealed a black leather cord, with a small silver pendant. A silver likeness of a knot hung on the cord, attatched to a card which read; "This is a keltic knot. The unending knot symbolizes forever, everlasting friendship, or true love." Beneath this was a small note written in a familiar, sloping scrawl. "Jace, while you may have left in person, you'll always remain in my heart. Clary."_

_He had felt around in the box, feeling the smooth wooden edges. His fingers finally coming to the rest on the last item held within it's wooden interior...a small thin box. _

_The box was adorned with a colorful sticky note, originally white but covered with smears transferred from her ever-rainbow hands. Two words were written in the same sloping scrawl... "Call me." Inside the box was the smooth metaliic surface of a cell phone._

_Pulling out the small metal object, he flipped it open ... calling the only number already programed in._

_Ring...ring...ring...CLICK_

_The sounds of a hand fumbling with the phone on the receiving end came through the small speakers, followed by a sharp breath as if she was trying to catch her breath after sobbing._

_"I miss you Jace," said Clary in a worn out whisper._

_"Me too," said Jace. He desperately savored the caress of a voice he never thought he would hear again. Closing his eye's he sighed, visualizing her small silhouette curled up on her large bed, or sitting high in the oak tree in her backyard_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay folks, **

**So one of my reviewers brought up a really good question. Are they getting older or are they still twelve. If you look back in the previous chapter you'll see that Jace was remembering opening the box. So he is now older, however I didn't say how old. By now I'd say Jace and Clary are fifteen. Izzy is also fifteen, and Alec is a little older. **

**Peaceinapod **

Jace clenched the phone tight in his hand, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. Clary's soft voice came from his cell, muffled by tears, but beautiful all the same.

"C'mon Jace. It's been three years, you can't have expected us to keep up these nightly calls forever."

He squeezed his eyes shut against the invading tears. Taking a deep breath he spoke, "I thought you said I would be in your heart forever."

Clary inhaled sharply, a muffled sob coming through the phone. "You'll always be in my heart Jace. You know that... but it hurts too much. I've moved on Jace, you should do the same."

Jace clenched his fist so tight he thought the phone might splinter. His free hand formed a fist, as red hot anger coursed through his body. "Who, the nerd? He'll never be good enough for you... you can't seriously like him?"

Clary spoke determinedly, " Actually we're together. "

Jace closed his eyes as a wall of grief slammed into him like a tidal wave. He thought back to all the dreams he'd had of seeing her again. He'd never thought about her loving another, the mere possibility never occurred to him. But now the Nerd was in HIS place. It was supposed to be him kissing her... holding her. She was his, dammit.

He felt a small burst of hope, as one last effort popped into his head. "Can we just meet, one last time? Please... you can't do this."

She whimpered as if holding back a sob. "I'm sorry Jace. I've moved on, I can't keep waiting for someone who's never coming back."

With that the phone gave a resounding click, as Jace swung back his fist, punching the wall with a crash, a burning pain bursting up his arm as the drywall gave out.

Izzy heard the crash, bursting through the door as Jace pulled his bleeding fist from the wall.

"Oh Jace..." she said with sadness. She went into the hall bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit, and running back.

"Why did you do this to yourself?" She asked in a soft voice.

She glanced up at the broken boy in front of her. Tears beginning to stream down his face, as he looked away from her probing gaze.

"What happened, Jace? You can trust me, you know, " Isabelle said this with a concerned tone as she gently dabbed at his hand.

"No I can't, " said Jace, "I can't trust anyone. My father was right, to love is to destroy."

He surged off the bed, flexing his still bleeding hand, and putting on his old leather jacket and worn sneakers.

"Where are you going Jace," asked Isabelle in a resigned tone.

"Out"

* * *

Jace walked around the corner, the drunk girl clinging to him. He couldn't remember what her name was, Brittany or something, but in his drunken stupor all he saw was red curls, and the cheeky grin of the girl he loved.

"Whaaaat did you say your name was again Goldie?" slurred the girl clinging to his shoulder.

"I didn't," he said with a smirk. Leisurely rolling his gaze up and down her skantily clad figure without comprehending any of it. Her midriff shirt, and miniskirt, didn't hide much... giving off the projection of prostitute rather than a seductive image. Seeing his gaze, the girl shoved her boobs out, turning and rubbing against his body. Jace rolled his eyes, but went with it, dragging her into his house. She giggled annoyingly, clinging tighter to his shoulder. Her fake nails dug into his shoulder painfully.

Jace dragged her through the living room, ignoring the sad look that Izzy gave him. Once they reached his bedroom, he shut the door, turning to face Tiffany or whatever her name was. She walked towards him in what would have been sexy way were it not for the drunken stumbling. She ran her finger down the buttons of his shirt purring, "I know what you need pretty boy."

Izzy ignored the sounds of the grope fest going on above her. She reached into the pocket of Jace's old leather jacket. Dialing the number of the only contact on the list not part of the family, she waited as it rang. Sighing when it went to voicemail, she began to speak "Listen bitch, I don't know what you said to my step brother, but you should know," at this point she interrupted by a click and a tired voice saying "who is this?"

Izzy listened to this old friend of Jace's, her heart going out to Jace who clearly loved this girl. As she listened to her talk she could tell Jace never told her how he felt. The tired voice finally drew to a stop, "Look I know this must hurt him, hell it even hurts me. But I cant do this anymore. Make sure he's okay for me."

The phone gave a resounding click as Isabelle slowly lowered the phone into Jace's pocket.


	5. Chapter 5

Okay Chickadee's

In this chapter Jace, Clary, and Izzy are all 16. Alec is seventeen, and Simon is 15.

Thank you all for your reviews, they inspire me :)

Peaceinapod

Jace sat on the small wooden bench, in the small park. His shoulders slumped, his wet clothing sticking to his body. Above him the rain cascaded down in sheets. Pummeling his skin with freezing cold droplets. He stroked the object in his hand with reverence. He softly stroked over the red curls captured forever in the small rectangle of paper. He softly ran his fingers over the worn image as if he could reach in a touch the girl he so desperately wanted.

"How appropriate" he thought as he looked up into the sky. "My entire life is glorious, and yet it feels like my world is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Even the sky is crying."

He looked at his face in the photo. So happy... so carefree. He'd been tickling her when Jocelyn took the photo. Her face hidden in his neck as she'd laughed as her mercilessly tickled her. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the photo where he could see her face. He hated this photo, he'd ripped the nerd out of photo. The photo was of him with her arms around him, her slim hand appeared above his head, her fingers making bunny ears as she laughed.

He hated the nerd with all of his heart. How could he have gotten her? He hated the fact that he had what he could never have. He hated him for taking the spot that was supposed to be his. He hated that he could hold her, touch her, talk with her, and he couldn't even call her. But mostly he hated that she loved him. He hated that she looked at another guy with the love that he so desperately wanted. He'd opened his heart to her, he loved her even when he'd been taught that to love was to destroy. He loved her, dammit!

He'd called her for years. Even when she gave up on him. He'd leave long voicemails talking to her about his life. She'd never answered, but he liked the idea that someone was listening. He thought if he reminded her, she'd still remember him. Finally after years the call had finally gone through. ********************************************************

FLASHBACK START

He'd had a burst of blind joy, "Clary?" He'd asked, so happy he was almost bouncing up and down.

A boy's voice had answered, and just like that his first moment of real joy in years came crashing down. He recognized the voice of Simon, the nerd that stole Clary. He saw red as he imagined sending death rays through the phone.

"Put Clary on," Jace had said this in a commanding tone, barely containing his rage.

"She doesn't want to talk to you," Simon answered.

Jace gripped the apple he'd been holding so hard his fingers broke into the flesh of the tender fruit. He'd felt an overwhelming sadness, that threatened to crush him. "I want her to tell me that herself"

"Don't you think she's been through enough? Your leaving hurt her too you know," Simon said, "If you keep calling her, she can never move on. Just stop Jace."

Jace had felt an overwhelming fear that this was his last chance. He desperately needed to hear her voice one last time. "Please just lemme say goodbye, and I swear I'll never call again." Jace pleaded giving up all composure fear and sadness pumping through his veins.

"Like I said she doesn't want to talk to you. This is the last time your call will be answered. Stop calling my girlfriend."

Jace had just fallen to the ground, curling up in a ball. Isabelle rushed over, asking if he was alright. Thinking he'd fainted she ran of to grab a cold cloth to put on his forehead. But he didn't care. He didn't think anything could hurt worse than this. He just felt numb. He didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered now. So he lay there. He didn't shed a single tear, but inside his soul was consumed by an unbearable pain, that burned from the inside. Faintly he heard Isabelle's worried voice, but he didn't have the energy to answer. Though his body was alive, he was already dead.

FLASH BACK END ************************************************************************* He was jerked out of his reverie by his phone vibrating in his pocket. He let it go to voicemail, not wanting to talk to anybody. A sharp beep alerted him to a new voice mail.

Sighing he opened the voicemail, pressing the phone to his ear with one shoulder as he delicately put the photo back in a small envelope. A high, nasally voice pierced his eardrums through the small cell phone.

"Hey sexy, it's Kailey. Hey so I heard that you slept with Aline. I thought we had something going on between us, and I'd hate for that silly little slut to come between us. Anyway's so my parents are leaving town this weekend and I have the whole house to myself. Why don't you come over and we can fool around. I'll bet you I'm better than that whore any day."

Jace closed the phone, pinching his nose against his oncoming headache. He slept with Kailey a couple times over the last couple times, but she'd got it stuck in her head. She didn't really want him, she just wanted to status and power of being his girlfriend. He sighed. The girls knew what they were getting into when they slept with him. He was notorious for being a player. Kaelie was convinced she could make him fall in love with her, but he didn't want her... he wanted his Clary.

It had been almost a year since his conversation with Simon. He was tired of life, of getting up every day.

He knew he should get back and help his family pack for the move, but he didn't have the energy to move. He took one last look at the photo, before getting up and slowly meandering down the small path towards home.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey there Lovelies**

**Thanks for all you feed back about bad girl vs. sensitive. I took inspiration from a couple of you and Im going to do a mix. Your reviews really help me write. The more I get the faster I update. **

**Please, please, please include suggestions. It helps immensely. **

**Once again... please give my story recommendations. I love reading other peoples work. I like lots of angst, romance, and a happy ending.**

**Peaceinapod:) **

Jace sighed, slowly shuffling around his room. He sluggishly shoved the contents of his room into boxes. There wasn't alot of stuff to pack, his room was almost empty. To the outside eye the room resembled something one might find in a hospital. The entire room, walls, bed, furniture, everything was a sterile white. The only visible item with any color was the brightly colored quilt tossed over the end of the bed. He sighed once more, slowly emptying the last of his clothing into boxes. He grabbed his guitar, gently placing it in its case. He opened the drawer he reserved for all of Kaelie's desperate gifts. Pulling out lacy underwear, photos in which she'd draped herself over him in a smothering manner, a collage of more pictures with the words Kaelie and Jace forever written in pink sharpie. Sighing he dumped the whole drawer into the small trash bag. He looked around the room, analyzing the empty room for anything that needed to be packed. He took in the stripped bed, the empty dresser, and the empty desk. He dropped to his knee's. Reaching under the bed, he moved his hands around the dusty floor, before they finally settled on the wooden corner of Clary's box. He gently placed the box into his backpack, before slinging it over shoulders and grabbing a box. **************************************************************************************************** Many boxes later, Jace lay on the lawn covering his eyes against the intruding sun. He sighed reaching his hand into the box, to feel the worn quilt inside. Behind him the noise of his family packing up the rent-a-truck contrasted with the peaceful moment he was having.

A soft thump alerted him to a body lying down next to him. He opened his eyes just as a long black ponytail hit him square in the face, half gagging him. Spluttering and spitting he glared at his foster sister. "Shouldn't you be off giving a sexual goodbye to your boy-toy of the day?"

She turned to him with a lazy smile, her hair filled with soft grass from the lawn, a smudge of dirt on her nose. "Shouldn't you be making out with your skan- *cough* girlfriend?"

Jace rolled his eyes, staring up at the sky. Isabelle didn't probe further, they both knew Jace didn't care about Kaelie. It wasn't that he was heartless or cruel, it was more that there was something... broken about him. So they lay there staring up at the sky, shoulder to and Isabelle had an odd sort of relationship. If you were to listen to their conversations you would think they hated each other. Their body language was much the same as one would regard a slug...indifferent disgust. And yet for small moments they understood each other. It was in small ways like this, that Jace fit into the family, but he had undeniably grown to be a Lightwood. Jace clung to this, it was his one guilty pleasure. He'd sworn to never let anyone in again, but no matter how hard he tried to make them hate him, the Lightwoods still loved him. It was soothing, having somewhere to belong, but in equal parts terrifying.

Isabelle just lay there quietly, breathing slowly and evenly. Talking to Jace about anything meaningful, resembled the careful way with which one might approach a wild tiger. Debating whether to bring up the girl, she lay there. Terrified of spooking him, and yet equally terrified of what would happen if she didn't speak. Letting out a barely discernible uneven breath, she opted instead for, "This whole roadtrip idea is crazy right?"

Jace chuckled, grinning at her. Maryse had insisted of renting a truck for them all to go in together. When Jace and Isabelle had protested, she had further announced that they were all gonna be sleeping in small cots in the cavernous truck back. Ignoring all protests she gave her patented look that said with absolute clarity, absolutely no arguing.

Isabelle glanced sidelong at him, twiddling her thumbs nervously. Jace gave her a quizzical look. "Ok, either I'm suddenly terrifying, or you have something to say. As much as I would like to think I'm terrifying, your related to Maryse, and Maryse is well...terrifying. Sooooo whatever it is spit it out. "

Isabelle started quietly, "I... you know what forget it." She stood up quickly, walking over to the truck and avoiding his curious gaze **********************************************************************************************

The road zoomed by underneath them, as the Lightwood kids played a card game around a small camping had fallen asleep ages ago, hanging off of his cot upside down, his mouth wide open, soft stores echoed around in the metal box. Alec had unconsciously dropped out of the game, to wrapped up in texting his boyfriend to notice that his turn had been skipped several times. Maryse and Robert were driving the truck in the separate drivers area. This left Isabelle, and Jace playing cards quietly.

Isabelle was still twiddling her thumbs anxiously, while Jace teased her half-heartedly. Jace for his part was getting increasingly curious, but didn't want to pry. It was Isabelle's turn , however she stared at her cards blankly. Occasionally switching cards round to appear busy. Finally she looked up, " I still email her."

Jace was suprised, he had a hunch, but he asked anyway. "Who?"

Isabelle looked at him with apologetic eyes. "Your friend. The girl. I don't know her name, but we started emailing when you came to us. "

Jace should have been angry, but in a way he was glad she still cared. "Why are you telling me this, " he asked feigning indifference.

"Her mother died last month. She's moving to her mother's friends house. I'm afraid that her number might change. If you want to call her, use my phone, she'll definitely answer that." Isabelle said this with a look of hope in her eyes.

Jace looked down at his lap. "She doesn't want to talk to me."

Isabelle looked at his with empathy, "Things change Jace. EIther way this is your last chance. If you don't want to talk to her fine... but don't blame me when you wish you could have talked to her one last time." She tossed her cell phone into his lap with a soft thud, before slowly crawling into her sleeping bag.

**Once again...Story recommendations are greatly appreciated. Go back to the top for my preferences.**

**PLEASE REVIEW**


	7. Chapter 7

Jace leaned against the shaking wall of the moving van. He felt the wall rumble behind his back as the wheels carried him further towards a new town. He could hear Izzy and Max arguing loudly at the other end of the long truck bed. He could've joined them over in the small area with their cots and sleeping bags, but for now he was content with the small space in between Maryse's pristine white couch, and the rumbling wall of the truck. He looked over at the couch, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

The couch was an authoritative, angular thing. The back slanted upwards sharply, and the stark white color of hospital sheets. Maryse was very particular about this couch. Something about the bold and strict presence of the item appealed to her. No one else liked the couch choosing to sit upon the floor rather than take up the ramrod straight posture the couch somewhat forcefully positioned you in. There was also the matter of keeping the dastardly thing white. Should they have spilled the tiniest drop on the angular cushions, they would have found themselves scrubbing toilets for a week. Maryse defended the thing rather vehemently. The couch did suit her, even a stranger could see that with a mere glance. The couch's rather barren cleanliness was rather startling to the eye, giving off a bright reflection of light.

Only Max and Jace knew of the writing on the bottom. They had taken a series of sharpies to the bottom after a particularly bad scolding for spilling juice on a polished leather cushion. Jace with a mischievous grin had taken the opportunity to both create trouble and privately make fun. Figuring the time was as good as any he'd created a list of all the bad words he knew in his thirteen year old brain, and simultaneously given Max a crash course is words forbidden.

Max had been quite taken with them, spending most of the following months in time out for one ill-timed word or another. Even though Max was now ten years old, and to quote Max, "a big boy", he still endulged in the unique thrill of doing something against the rules. He'd long since learned to avoid saying them when Maryse was in the room, but Jace had a good laugh everytime a whispered, "bitch" followed Maryse's retreating form out the room.

Jace slowly ran his finger down the white leather, covered in sloppy handwriting. He was a part of the family, unquestionably. He felt it unconsciously in his heart, but as always it competed with the grief in his heart, rushing into corners and saturating even the happiest of moments. He still felt the pull to her, to that feeling of being understood completely, and of being a part of a union.

Thats how it was with her. Two hearts beating as one. They would meet at her mothers studio, dodging the ever present flow of dancers, musicians, and artists. He'd pull her to him, clutching her tightly, a still rock breaking the flow of a stream. Then she would pull him off to one of their hiding places. The meadow maybe, or her attic bedroom. Sometimes they would climb the tall oak in her yard and sit for hours in the thick branches, just talking. But his favorite had always been the old abandoned barn in the woods between her house and her mother's friend Luke.

Luke had given it to them, seeing how they looked at it. The barn was one of his strongest memories. Luke had seen the way Jace had nothing that was his. Giving the barn to both of them, he'd made sure to make it clear that it was also his. He'd dropped a rusty key into his dirty palm, identical to the one he handed Clary. But sharing it didn't matter to him. It had still been his.

They had fixed it up together. Hanging some of Luke's old hammocks from the rafters, and dragging in ancient speakers. They'd hung thousands of small christmas lights, giving the red barn a golden glow in the night. The old stalls, originally meant for horses, were split up.

Clary's stall plastered in posters, a few beanbags lumped in a corner, and an easel occupying the only corner of the room not filled with stacks of art supplies. Jace's holding a large futon, covered with lumpy pillows. Some of the pillows had been sewn in square white cotton with neat little stitches by Jace himself. Some of the pillows however were sewn in colorful rainbow of crazy prints with small paint smears along the edges where her messy hands had smeared paint as they sewed up the edges. The photos that now occupied his box had covered this walls in neat rows, and the quilt which resided in the same box had covered the futon. Under the desk a worn guitar Jocelyn had given him occupied a black case.

Jace wondered what had happened to the old barn. He wondered what had happened to his guitar. He still carried the key on a leather cord round his neck, unable to let go of it even though he could no longer open anything with it. He supposed now that was a good thing, seeing as he was moving into the town not fifteen minutes from his old town. The towns were seperated by the same woods that held his barn. Making the only way to travel between them a windy country road. Jace however knew of scores of hidden foot trails among the tall trees.

Jace should've been ecstatic about the move. He could finally visit his barn, and Jocelyn's old studio. And yet somehow he only dreaded it. Clary had moved to Madelyn's, Jocelyn's life long best friend. Madelyn however had moved to Canada shortly before he left, much to Jocelyn's despair. That meant that while he was moving in, she had just moved away.

He just felt empty. For every one step forward he took two steps backwards. Like the universe was playing a game with his heart. He was moving back to the one place he loved, and the thing he loved most about it had left.

The truck shuddering to a stop, jolted him out of his reverie. Slowly grinding as the couch crashed down upon him. He pushed slightly feeling no give and lay back. Figuring his family would find him in a while. Welcoming the time alone his closed his eyes and plugged in his truck grumbled and scraped as various pieces of furniture stubbornly dragged along the tin bottom.

Several hours later Jace was still pinned underneath the couch. The peace was almost overpowering. There came a point when he grew tired of being trapped in his own mind. Had he been free from the couch he would've gone to tease Izzy, or razz Alec. The space felt confining, as if he was trapped between a couch and confronting his grief, a feat he was terrified of. He felt the smooth surface of Izzy's phone digging into his thigh.

Ever since Izzy had given him the phone he'd felt the possibility. He couldn't though he knew that. Even if she did answer she didn't want to talk to him. He couldn't handle that pain of that again, the sadness would crush him.

He was done waiting. He had to move on. He deserved to be happy.

Jace sat on the edge of the wicker porch, head in hands. He felt trapped, exhausted, and hopeless. Isabelle sat next to him chattering incessantly, and yet the looks she sneaked at him were the looks one might give to a man about to jump off a cliff.

Jace shook his head and pushed off the porch with a large shove. He strode forward confidently. His feet knew the path he was heading by heart. He could have walked the bumpy dirt path with his eyes closed, the familiar curves calling to his feet. Isabelle stumbled after him, calling his name loudly as she tried to navigate the treacherous path in her, shouted desperately. This side of Jace was someone she'd never seen before.

Jace strode forward barely registering Izzy. His heart calling him forward. He unlocked the small side door of his barn, a spider web falling into his hair. He brushed it out of his hair. Turning he walked into the main area of the barn, grinning when he saw the hammocks he spun slowly.

His eyes stopped on a mass of red curls, and wide eyes. The green eyes of his Clary, eyes that roamed over him wonderingly.

"Why," she asked. Tears leaking out of her eyes.

But Jace barely heard her, as he strode forward. He encircled her in his arm squeezing her tightly, as he rubbed his calloused hands gently against her back. Even as he felt the hurt she'd given him ten times over, he couldn't watch her cry. He just couldn't.


	8. Chapter 8

Clary's heart stopped as she turned. Golden blond curls—covered in dust and cobwebs—caught her eyes, a tall, lean body stepping toward her with lithe but purposeful movements. This was her best friend; the boy whom she secretly loved, even though she knew he would never return the sentiment. This was the boy whose voice she listened to every time the longing and the grief became too much for her to bear. The boy whose voice and words were burned into her memory—words he'd said to her in his innumerable voice mails.

She wished she'd never stopped talking to him. She regretted it every day. She'd been so lonely for that first year he was gone. She'd been alone and afraid…but then Simon had been there for her. For the first time in a long time, she'd had someone who loved her—even if she didn't return his feelings. She'd cherished the feeling of not being alone, of being taken care of, of having a friend. Until Simon had finally snapped.

_She'd supposed it wasn't his fault. Nobody wanted to be in a relationship when their girlfriend called her friend she was obviously in love with every day. He'd asked her to stop in a calm voice, despite the tears streaming down his face. "I want you to want me like I want you. But you're not here with me, you're still with him. You may be here physically, but your mind and your heart is elsewhere. I'm done, Clary. I've waited years for you, and when I finally got you, you're not really mine. You were never mine. Stop calling him, or I'm going to find someone who wants me as much as I want them."_

_She'd made the fateful call, her voice shaking, silent tears dripping down her face as she painfully explained it to him over and over again. Not quite believing it herself._

_He'd still called her, though. And every night, she'd curled up in her bed, smiling as she listened to his voice tell her about all the trouble he'd gotten into with his little minion, Max, or what outrageous shopping trip Izzy had dragged him into. He'd called every day without fail, and then it had just stopped. She'd supposed he'd just gotten tired of calling her. She could understand that: she'd never once answered his calls, in fear of losing the one person who cared about her, even when her mother had lain in the hospital._

_But it had still hurt. She'd withdrawn into herself, staying in the barn for a week. Simon had stopped by occasionally, to bring her water from the hose outside, and a sack of food. He'd just sat next to her, looking guilty. He'd probably blamed himself for asking her to stop calling him. But she was too numb to care, so she'd continued to rock gently back and forth in one of the numerous hammocks she'd lain in with Jace, not even daring to sit in the red hammock she knew was Jace's favorite. They'd lain side by side in its soft fabric, arms and legs tangled, as the breeze blew them back and forth._

_Eventually Luke had come. She'd known he'd been there, sitting on the old bench outside, scuffing his foot in the dry dirt and trying to gather the courage to comfort her, as a father would. That was just Luke's way. Yet, as much as she'd wanted his presence, she hadn't dared to rush him. After a week, he'd finally pushed the giant red doors open. He looked lost in grief—but Luke always did those days. She'd always known he was in love with her mother, and watching him as Jocelyn fell sick just confirmed her theory. Luke's soft voice had broken the silence._

_"I know you miss him, Chickadee," said Luke calling her by her childhood nickname._

_"I always liked that boy," he'd continued, his hands in his pockets. "He was so caring and gentle with you. I guess I always hoped to come to a wedding here. You and him, happy as can be. You in a beautiful white dress, walking down the aisle. I trusted him with you. Most boys… they don't deserve you, nor would I trust any old boy with someone I love as much as I love you. But Jace… he deserved you. He needed you as much as you needed him, and I could see it in the way he looked at you." Luke had paused in his_ _reminiscence, taking a deep breath. "But things change. It's going to hurt for a long time, Clary. It might never stop hurting. But you've got to keep going."_

_Luke finally looked over at her, his eyes falling upon a small, fragile girl. Eyes that were once alight, were now dim and lifeless. "You know why I bring this up. Now I see a new boy, who cares about you as much as Jace did. Sometimes living in the past only brings sorrow." He paused, holding out his hand, "Come on, love. Join me in tomorrow."_

_She'd followed him into the sunlight, where they'd sat on his porch swing as they told stories. The next day she'd moved into his house. Neither of them really asked the other about it; it just felt right. When her mother had been put in hospice, they put her house up for sale, closing down the studio. Luke had carried all of her art stuff to the barn in his worn blue pick-up truck. He'd helped her pack all her possessions into boxes, and then moved those into his house, moving her into the room his sister, Amatis, has used when she was little. She'd lived there for the a long time._

_When her mom had died, Madelyn had come to get her, the older woman's long, flowing skirt dragging in the dust as she talked excitedly about her newest alternative remedy. Madelyn was a hippie, living in the middle of nowhere with a couple of nudist roommates, drinking tea and dancing. Luke had stood on the porch, watching as she'd slipped into the cab and pulled away, looking out the window with a heart broken expression. However, the cab had only made it two minutes down the road before turning around._

_The cab had pulled back into the driveway, Clary's small form hopping out and bounding up the driveway with uncharacteristically long steps. She'd knocked on the door, rather breathlessly. Luke's face poked around the door, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. Clary had fidgeted, looking at her feet; finally, she asked in an uncertain voice, "Do you think I could stay?"_

_Luke had picked her up, swinging her around in his arms as they laughed and cried simultaneously. The cab quietly pulled around the corner, as Madelyn not so quietly yammered to the dazed looking cab driver._

Clary's eyes teared up, drinking in the scene before her with hungry eyes. Jace strode over to her with long strides, squeezing her in his arms, ignoring her mumbled "Why?"

She melted into him, losing herself in his warmth. His hands gently rubbed her back, reassuring her as she slowly and quietly stopped crying. Still, she held onto him, her face pressed into his chest, his head resting atop hers. Seeing she had an audience, she pulled away, keeping her side against his as he wrapped a long arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him once again.

"Go away, Izzy," he said.

"Who are you?" Izzy queried, pointing her confused and accusing eyes on Clary.

Not really knowing how to answer this question Clary stammered. "Are you his latest girlfriend?" she asked, stepping away slightly as she pulled herself back to reality.

Jace reached his hand out, barely touching her fingers, but maintaining some contact. Izzy smiled. "Wait so you're not one of his whores? I like you already. I'm glad to see there's one girl who hasn't fallen for his tricks!"

She strode forward, hugging Clary warmly. Clary laughed. "I see you're Izzy. It's nice to finally meet you in person. Thanks for keeping up contact for so long. And no, we're just old friends. "

Jace winced at this admission of friendship. Coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, he addressed Izzy. "I'll be home later. I might miss dinner. Tell Maryse that I fell off a cliff if she asks."

Izzy gave him one last questioning look before whipping her hair out as she turned and strutted out the door. Jace felt Clary pull him forward, climbing up the haystack to the highest group of hammocks. Pulling her towards the red hammock, he climbed in, situating her next to him. They lay there, neither wanting to break the moment.

Finally, Clary broke the silence, quietly whispering, "Why aren't you mad?"

Jace rolled onto his side, staring into her eyes. "I'm furious."

Clary took in a deep breath, moving to get out of the hammock. Jace reached out and grabbed her, pulling her back toward him. "Just 'cause I'm mad doesn't mean I didn't miss you every single day. I'm not going to let that get in the way of any chance I have with you now."

Clary took in a deep breath, turning and relaxing against him as she intertwined their fingers.

They stayed like that for hours, catching up on lost time, neither daring to break the peace. Finally, Clary turned, saying, "I want to meet your family."

Jace slowly got out, pulling her up with him. "Well, then, let's go."

Isabelle stared at the girl helping her set the table. She had a soft smile, and big, bright green eyes. Only someone as observant as Isabelle would've noticed the small paint smudges covering her hands and the sleeves of her sweater. A small purple handprint covered the left side of her neck, as if she'd rested it there while painting.

Sure, she seemed like one of those people who were incredibly charismatic, but still think they're weird. But what was most striking was the way Jace looked at her, touched her. He looked at her as if she was the most precious thing he'd ever seen in his life. He touched her with intimate familiarity, barely going a minute without pulling her to him. And yet, there was something so forbidden about it. As if he was sneaking cookies from the cookie jar. The touches were so chaste, and they looked like the way one would touch their lover.

Clary settled next to her, laughing as she joked with Max. She fit in naturally, already belonging in their home. She seemed adept at Alec's way of sort of talking and sort of expecting you to read his mind. They'd had a teasing conversation, just with their eyes earlier, as they listened to Max try to fit an hour's worth of talking into a minute. She'd laughed, despite looking slightly overwhelmed, when Izzy talked about shopping. Throughout all of this, Jace had maintained a close presence, never straying more than a few feet from her,watching her with a soft smile that Isabelle had never seen before. The connection wasn't one sided. Even as Clary chatted, she'd glance over to make sure Jace was still close, going to help him with whatever tasks pulled him away from her.

Isabelle was happy for Jace, and yet she felt the sorrow he still suffered like a weight on her shoulders. He saw this girl as much more than a friend, but fought with his feelings to settle for what he was allowed.

Maryse stared down at the pair wrapped tightly together, spooning on the stiff white couch. Jace looked more comfortable and happy than she'd ever seen him in his entire life. A peaceful smile adorned his sleeping face, all trace of the nightmares he usually experienced gone. Debating with herself, she tried to decide what to do. Normally, this was something she would never have allowed, but this moment felt much to sacred to break. She felt an odd trust toward this girl. As if only with this girl was Jace safe. She glanced at them one last time before turning off the light and heading upstairs to bed.


	9. Chapter 9

**The new chapter will be up as soon as my wonderful beta finishes checking it over. Probably today or tomorrow.;)**

**Please read this note as it is incredibly important and personal to me.**

Hello readers,

Lemme start by apologizing for the long wait. On Monday, I started at a new school... halfway through the year. Which was... fun. But that aside, outspoken bubbly person that I am, I made some good friends. So for that I am thankful.

However because of this I was incredibly busy. But, this wait has not been entirely for naut. If you go back you will see that I'm going back and revising some of my old chapters, as well as deleting the authors notes that are no longer relevant.

I've also fit in time to do a little reading myself. Lemme just say WOW! I was so impressed by some of the stories on the mortal instruments category! Admittedly there are some stories with little or no flow, and poor emotion progression. Two of my all time pet peeves, but the vast majority of the stories were well structured, suspenseful and pulled me in with lots of juicy detail.:)

All this reading made me think about my all time least favorite thing readers do on fanfiction... Not review after they read. On any given day I write over thirty reviews. Sometimes writing multiple for the different chapters of a story to give my thoughts. This is a collaborative writing site, meaning the readers contribute to the process greatly.

This story is something I'm working on as a book that will be published. The names will be changed of course, but the story line is my original creation and therefore my property.

Uploading this story to fanfiction is a largely unnecessary hassle, but I upload it because your reviews feed my creativity. Or in the case of Miss PoppyAckerman, who suggested getting a beta, help me reach my full potential.

If this gives you any idea, I have about six thousand regular readers. ( You can check this in your own story by looking at your traffic graph) However so far I have only fifty something reviews.

Not only for my story, but for every story out there. Please, please...every time you read a story leave a review. Good, bad, so so, they make all the difference.

Keep the original intent of this website alive, and review, private message, anything. Just give your opinion.

Peaceinapod

P.S. I have some great readers who do review regularly. And to those of you that do... I thank you wholeheartedly. :)

**The new chapter will be up as soon as my wonderful beta finishes checking it over. Probably today or tomorrow.;)**


	10. Chapter 10

**If you haven't please read chapter nine, BEFORE READING**. Thanks for those of you who did review. They warmed my heart and fueled my creativity.

So sorry for the long wait, me and my beta had some issues communicating.

To those of your who are wondering how old they are now, Clary, Jace, and Izzy are 16. Alec is 3 years older. Max is younger.

* * *

Clary woke to the sound of spring rain pounding against the large glass doors leading to the patio behind her. The soft tinkle of rain hitting glass was nothing compared with the gleeful roar of the wind brushing through the trees behind her. The skies were a dark grey, covered in patches of rolling storm clouds. Lightning periodically broke the roar of the wind with an angry growl of thunder and then the harsh clap of lightning.

Clary had always been afraid of lightning. Something about the loud harsh noises combined with the flashes of light terrified her. But somehow she felt safe here. She was lying in between the rather harsh, white seatback of Maryse's couch and a warm, masculine body. A long arm was draped over her side reassuringly as she trembled in the unfamiliar dark place. Her body's nervous trembling contrasted with the perfection of the moment. She unconsciously moved closer to Jace's body. Turning her body, she rolled over as gently as she could, not wanting to wake him. Jace stirred in his sleep, pulling her to him with the arm thrown over her side, and he squeezed her slightly, before tucking the large quilt over her small body. Clary tucked her face into his chest, closing her eyes and breathing in the scent of him. Gradually, the trembling eased and she slipped into a calm sleep.

* * *

In her dreams, she lay in a soft hammock, curled around Jace's lean form. He laughed, running fingers gently through her hair. One of his feet hung out of the hammock, gently pushing them back and forth, until the rocking became shaking, furious and rough. They tumbled out of the hammock, but instead of hitting the hay stack beneath them, they fell into a gigantic crack in the floor of the barn. She reached out desperately for Jace's hand, but he fell farther and farther away until she could no longer see him. She saw her mom on a ledge reaching out to save her, but when she grabbed Clary's hand she was flung downwards. She hurtled towards the ground, , but instead of hitting the ground, a hospital bed thrust upwards through the floor. Jocelyn changed into the frail, sallow woman she had been in her final days. Clary screamed, trying to reach her mother, but as she fell the ground moved further away. A voice rumbled through the cavernous space, telling her she was all alone now, no one could save her. The ground opened up again and thousands of spiders rushed up the walls, red eyes alight with malice. Their spindly legs clicked against the wall, making a horrible, deafening rumble. Suddenly, her fall was cut abruptly short as she was yanked side to side, warm hands grasping her shoulders as she was gently shaken. A faraway voice called to her as she ran down an endless hallway, tears streaming down her face. The voice became clearer, sharpening into the worried voice of Jace.

" Clary wake up, you're dreaming"

"Clary come back to me. You're going to be fine."

Her eyes opened with a start. She sat up rapidly, ignoring the sudden head rush. She let out a muffled sob and turned her face, hiding it in the side of Jace's neck. Jace's arms encircled her reassuringly, a large hand rubbing circles on her back. She heard him reassuring Izzy that she was going to be fine, but she only squeezed him tighter. Wrapping their sitting forms with their quilt, Jace gently ran his fingers through her hair. He softly sang the words to the lullaby Jocelyn used to sing them when he slept over.

Jace ran his fingers through Clary's unruly curls. He'd stopped signing when he realized she had fallen asleep, but he couldn't fall asleep now. He'd woken to sounds of desperate screaming, he'd instantly known it was Clary's voice. He'd sat up, fully awake, protectiveness and anger coursing through his veins at whomever was hurting his girl...until he realized she was safely in his arms, thrashing back and forth, calling his name and her mother's over and over again. Then her screams had escalated, desperately calling for help, obviously terrified. But what hurt the most was that he could do nothing about it. He shook her gently, calling to her, as his alarmed family trickled down the stairs. Even the cat had come down from his hiding place to squeeze into the small space between Clary and Jace.

When she'd finally woken up, he'd felt a powerful sense of relief. Ignoring his families worried comments, he'd pulled their quilt around himself, wrapping it around Clary's shivering body, which was tucked into his lap. He'd pulled the quilt around them like it could shield them from the world and keep her safe from anything that could hurt her. He squeezed her comfortingly, and rested his face in her soft hair. He breathed in the smell of strawberries that always surrounded her, and eased into an uneasy sleep, every so often rubbing her back to make sure she was still safely within his grasp.

* * *

Had Jace been awake, he might have noticed that his family, enthralled by this side of him, had stood around for quite a while, watching with worried compassion. Eventually Robert had gone to sleep, kissing his wife on the cheeks and sleepily stumbling up the stairs to their bedroom. Max's tired eyes began to droop, and he too went off to bed, but not without tucking his lucky action figure into Clary's hands. Alec had fallen asleep on the stairs, and Maryse, who was deceptively strong, carried his skinny form up to his bedroom. She had come back down though, feeling the need to be there for her son. However, what surprised her was the need to protect this girl Jace cared about so much. Maryse sat in the brown arm chair, which was tall, yet somewhat more forgiving than the white couch. She made a cup of coffee and then traveled back to the armchair, gripping the warm mug in one hand as she pulled her silk bathrobe around her small body. She thought about this girl, slowly and thoroughly, as was her way. She liked this girl. She was different than the others—the girls Jace snuck in, which he thought she knew nothing about. This girl challenged him, made him try, but she also made him laugh, made him smile. She trusted this girl. Somehow, she seemed worthy of her son, whom Maryse loved more than her own life.

Dawn broke and Maryse busied herself with making pancakes, unwilling to waste any more time with idle thought. That was just how Maryse was: down to earth and incredibly productive. She made a pot of hot cocoa, the good kind with real milk and a touch of cream. She made a pot of coffee for her and Robert and Alec, who preached about the negative effects in the long run, but snuck a cup when he thought no one was looking. No one actually cared, but once Alec tried to convince Isabelle of something he stuck with it fiercely. It was a good thing, she supposed. The already hyper girl did not need any coffee.

Morning rolled around, the family piling into the booth style table. Isabelle was her usual grouchy self for the first half of breakfast, before cheering up after a few pancakes had found their way into her stomach. Alec, who didn't tend to warm up until noon, sleepily ate his pancakes. His hair, as per usual, looked like a grizzly bear had mated with his head, and his clothing was rather rumpled. He was missing his left sock, and his right sock had a hole in it, out of which his big toe stuck awkwardly. Clary, to her credit, was completely unfazed, and even asked if she could draw the foot with the sock. To this, Jace whispered something into her ear, which made her giggle and Izzy smack him upside the head. Alec, however, was intrigued and asked if he could have a copy of the drawing. Clary, who was more into the drawing process than the finished drawing, said he could just have it. Alec, in all his unusual ways, was warming up to Clary faster than Maryse had ever seen him warm up to anyone.

* * *

Clary snickered quietly as she hid in the dark broom closet with Alec. Jace was outside counting loudly as Izzy, who was terrible at hide and seek, desperately looked for a hiding place.

Jace counted steadily, around chuckles.

"One."

"Two."  
"Three."  
"Four."  
"Five."  
"Six."  
"Seven."  
"Eight."  
"Nine."  
"TEN."

"Ready or not, here I come!"

He quietly padded to the pantry, opening the door to find a disgruntled Izzy. Oh, come on Jace, you could at least have let me hide a little longer, she thought for a moment before smiling, Then again, this is tag hide and seek. She slipped under his outstretched arm and ran swiftly away. Turning her head she shouted over her shoulder, "Catch me if you can, Sucker!"

Jace ran after her with lithe, graceful steps. He sprung almost silently up the stairs, landing with light feet. He sneakily followed her into the laundry room and snuck up behind her. He grabbed her around the waist, eliciting several undignified squeals of laughter, before throwing her over his shoulder. She pounded on his back and kicked in protest. Jace, however, had an evil smile on his face. Tossing Isabelle into the shower, he turned on the water to the coldest setting. Isabelle flipped him off. She turned off the shower and wrung her long, black hair out. Grinning she said, "You really shouldn't have done that."

Jace barely had a second to react before she whipped her hair around, hitting him in the face with a satisfying smack. Ignoring the sting on his cheeks, Jace picked her hair out of his mouth and eyes. He shook his head, "Girls! I swear you women are ten times more deadly than men."

Smiling at this, Izzy said, "I don't believe in equality of the sexes. Men would become unmanageable!"

Jace looked at her warily. "I'm going to ruin your favorite pair of heels."

Isabelle looked briefly startled before cooling her features into a neutral smile. "I'll put lipstick on you in your sleep, and post the pictures to Facebook."

Jace smirked at her before galloping down the stairs two at a time. He pulled open the broom closet with a bang, startling Clary and Alec. Clary tripped slightly over an askew broom handle, and Alec jumped about a foot in the air. Jace bowed dramatically before saying in a deep, theatrical voice, "I am Jace the Great. The all-powerful me. Greetings peasants, you may kiss my feet now."

Clary bowed jokingly, a playful glint in her eyes. She glanced at Jace cheekily before bowing and saying, "And I'm Harry Houdini!"

She darted past him, her gait resembling that of a gazelle. Jace bounded after her, shouting playful insults after her. Clary darted under the table, running upstairs. Loud, banging footsteps sounded from above until Clary, gleefully sliding down the staircase, was followed by a laughing Jace running down the stairs three at a time. Clary climbed over the couch, followed by Jace who jumped over in a single stride. He caught her just at the door, and pinned her to the door with his body. He turned his head to whisper in her ear, "Gotcha!"

Clary took in am imperceptibly uneven breath at their close proximity. Jace turned his head, their lips brushing softly. He jerked in surprise pulling, away slightly. He looked into her eyes, softly running his fingers through the ends of her hair. He leaned in slightly, resting his forehead against hers. Both of them breathed with shaky, uneven breaths. Clary's long eyelashes brushed against his cheek bone, like soft butterfly kisses. Jace took in a breath, closing his eyes and taking her lips with his. But as they touched, Isabelle gasped behind them and the spell was broken.

Jace and Clary jumped apart quickly, avoiding eye contact. Jace shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting his feet anxiously. Clary nervously smoothed her clothing down, not looking at Jace. Isabelle curiously took in the scene in front of her, looking back and forth between Jace and Clary.

Jace bumped Clary with his elbow. Looking at his feet, he mumbled, "Ummm... I should go. I have this thing... I have to do... at this place."

Clary looked up, obviously pretending nothing had happened. "Yeah! I uh... have thing too."

Isabelle, seeing this as her chance strode forward and draped her arm around Clary's shoulder. "Oh yeah! We were going to do girl things together, manicures, and shopping."

Clary looked at her, not comprehending. "We were?" Finally comprehending, she looked up. "Yeah, um we were."

Jace gave a startled look, glancing between the two girls. He looked at Clary as if trying to visualize her doing something girly. "You hate shopping..."

Clary, finally realizing what Isabelle said, had a rather terrified look on her face.

Jace, seeing this, chuckled slightly before going back to looking at his feet. "Well… I should go. I have my…thing."

Jace turned, grabbing his coat and cell phone. He gave one last look at Clary's equally confused face, and shut the door behind him.

Isabelle turned to Clary, fixing her with a long curious glare. Clary fidgeted and smoothed her clothing some more. Isabelle opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, and then shut it. This happened several times more before she finally decided on something to say. "What was that?"  
Clary laughed quietly, running her hand through her hair. "I have no idea."  
Isabelle nodded slowly, still confused. Clary smiled at her, before a realization struck her.  
"Hey Isabelle?"  
"What?"  
"I am NOT going shopping."  
Isabelle laughed outright at this. "Yeah, I kinda figured."


	11. Chapter 11

Jace leaned casually against the chain of the old playground swing, his foot gently propelling him forward as he scuffed it in the packed, dry dirt beneath him. The once bright-blue seat was faded and cracked, the wear and tear of its years in the sunny playground painfully obvious. The thick, strong chain was a rusted red-brown color, and the individual links groaned and squeaked as they rubbed together. Compared to the playground around the swing set, however, the swing set itself looked shiny and new. A slide rested some ten feet away, its base rattling loosely in the ground. The ladder of the slide was missing several rungs, but compared to the slide, which was hanging desperately on by several visibly loose screws, the ladder looked like the safer option. A jungle gym was dismantled into several large pieces of imposing plastic, occupying what used to be the sandbox.

When Jace and Clary were little, they used to hide in the large pieces of plastic, their small bodies squeezing into cracks or small patches of shade in the sunny playground. They had to be careful though, for the edges were rather sharp in certain areas. A long shut-down school was attached to the playground, the windows boarded and graffiti covering the heavily weathered bricks.

To Jace however it would always look as it had on the first day of kindergarten- bricks shining an earthen red, and a large hand painted sign above the door reading: Sunny Brooks K-5 Elementary, a large window next to the door, looking in on a bustling reception desk, and a familiar face smooshed against the window, with red curls exploding chaotically from her head.

Jace sighed, wishing Clary was still five years old, and their argument could be resolved by throwing crayons, or dumping sand down each other's backs. He thought back to their kiss just hours before. The sun had been slowly sinking since their encounter at noon. Now the sun caressed the tops of the mountains, bathing the playground in a warm orange glow. Jace knew he should get back; it would be dark soon, but he still couldn't move from his solitary rest. He felt overwhelmed—happy, but overwhelmed. He was riddled with questions, indecision seeping into even the smallest cracks in his brain. Could he forgive her? Make nice and pretend he hadn't spent years pining for her? Could afford not to? Could he stand to watch Clary in the arms of Simon? She was the one girl on the planet that made his head spin with questions, took his normally calm demeanor and turned him into a fumbling boy again. Every other girl responded to his looks with painfully apparent attraction, vying for his attention. But Clary had never batted an eye. He liked that about her, the fact that she viewed him as a person, and not a pretty face. But sometimes, times like this, he hated it. He wanted her to look at him, to make her feelings obvious, instead of filling his head with questions as he desperately tried to figure out what she was thinking. Sometimes he wanted to be sure of her opinions, and sometimes he wanted to know with absolute clarity that his feelings were returned.

He thought back to their kiss, the feeling of being pressed against her small, warm figure. He remembered chasing after her, the thrill of the challenge he seldom got from other girls. He remembered catching her, and then he was pressing her against the door, her body fitting perfectly against his, Clary's trademark strawberry scent surrounding him. The closeness clouded his brain, eliminating everything else but his body pressing against hers. He whispered in her ear in a somewhat breathless voice, his hot breath fanning across her neck, producing a soft shiver. He'd turned his face to look into her eyes, but their lips brushed with soft, feathery touch. Then he leaned forward taking her lips in his, tasting them. And then Isabelle had to go and ruin it, her sharp intake of breath causing Clary to jerk away, and filling his head with doubts. Did she want that kiss? Did she even like him? But as much as he would like the answers to be yes, she was so spontaneous and unpredictable that he couldn't say for sure.

He smiled, thinking about what Clary would say if she knew he wasted this much time in what Clary had deemed. "Bimbo brain." She'd laugh and nudge him in the shoulder and say, "Wondering only makes questions. Go get 'em big boy!"

What was it about Clary that made him terrified of said going and getting? His reverie was interrupted by her fiery silhouette making her way towards him against the crimson backdrop of the dusk sky. She sat down next to him in the adjoining swing, her legs folding up gracefully. Her graceful movements were contrasted by a large undignified squeal as the long unused swing adjusted to its newfound passenger. Unfazed, Clary chuckled softly. "I thought I might find you here."

Jace stared at his feet, unsure of what to say. After a minute of comfortable silence, he said, "I kissed you."

Clary glanced at him, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away. "I kissed you back."

Jace looked at her, scanning her face for any indicator of how she felt. After several moments, though, he decided to go for it. "I think I like you."

Clary looked up, startled. "I...I think I do to."

Jace smiled at her, looking at her for the first extended amount of time in the entire conversation. Clary smiled at him back, gazing into his eyes with genuine happiness. Then a sharp ringing broke them out of their trance. Both of them reached into their pockets, pulling out their phones to check if it was their phone. Jace clicked it on and then shoved it back in his pocket. Clary, however, pressed answer and spoke into the small device. "Hello?"

An alarmed and somewhat guilty expression formed onto her face. "Listen Simon, can I call you back?"

She turned off the screen and turned to meet Jace's now stormy gaze. Jace spoke in a low tone that was both furious and sad. "You're still with that tool?"

"No, but...it's complicated. Sort of, I guess. Look, I like you, but I can't just jump into your arms the second you waltz back into town. He stuck with me through one of the hardest parts of my life. He wants my whole attention this time, a real chance. I owe him that much at least."

Jace's face looked like it was torn between uncontrolled anger and agony. He spoke in an overly calm voice that conveyed barely controlled sadness. "What? So you thought you'd string me along for the ride? I'm not gonna be your boy toy on the side, Clary."

Clary looked like she was ready to burst into tears. "You're right Jace. What happened earlier wasn't just you. I kissed you back, but you're right. I foolishly acted on an impulse. I guess I've been so overcome with seeing you again, that I got caught up in the moment. This," here she paused to gesture between herself and Jace, "is not who I am. I'm an honest person Jace."

Jace stood up, his tall form towering over her sitting figure. "Oh, he waited for you? He had a hard time? Give me a fucking break! I tried for years to get back to you. I called your fucking voice mail and talked to you for a year, even after you told me you didn't want to talk to me anymore."

Clary's eyes now streamed with tears, salty drops running down her face in a trickling waterfall. She sniffled a little and held out a hand imploringly. "Jace, listen-" but her sentence was cut short by Jace's harsh angry voice.

"Whatever Clary, it's not like I liked you back anyways. I just didn't want you to get your hopes up."

Clary stood up at this, all traces of sadness replaced by a burning anger. She strode forward and pushed him chest with a slender hand. "If you're waiting for me to fall at your feet and beg for just one night with the great Jace Lightwood then you can kiss my ass. You're acting like I owe you an apology for wanting to move on. Well, I don't! If you really wanted what's best for me then you'd know how hard it is to have your best friend in the world torn away. You'd have wanted me to be happy. So, yes, I stopped answering the phone. Yes, I tried to move on, but I don't owe you an apology for wanting to be happy...I don't you an explanation. Even you stopped calling my voicemail after a year. We both moved on, I'm not the one that's to blame."

Jace raised his eyes from their forlorn staring at her hand, the only part of them that was touching even though it was still shoving him back. He looked up into her face with an expression that was filled with questions, his eyebrows scrunched up in the middle. Finally, anger won over curiosity and he shook his head, muttering, "Fine. See if I care if you run of to your nerdy lap dog. I've got girls lining up for a piece of this."

He gestured to himself with a sweeping hand and then turned around, walking dejectedly towards his house. Clary took in a shaky breath and stumbled over to the splintering wooden bench, just ten feet behind her. She sat down, her breath rushing out of her body with a muffled whoosh. She took a deep breath, willing the tears to stop coming and dropped her head into her hands. She wanted to run after him and confess her feelings. She wanted to know with absolute certainty that he would return her feelings. But more than anything she wanted to be sure that he would never leave again. She could still feel the suffocating sadness and utter loneliness she had felt when he left. She knew it was weak, but she was terrified of feeling that way again. Simon was the safe option, someone who loved her and would never leave. Simon was predictable, and comforting. On the other hand, she knew that she and Simon had little chemistry, rarely kissing or hanging out anymore. He seemed resigned to her disinterest, though he still tried rather desperately to grab her attention. In public they would hold hands and sit next to each other. But even Maia, Simons nerd buddy and Clary's only female friend, asked when they were going to give it up. Jonathan, Clary's older brother would kick Simon out of his place next to her by saying, "I'm her brother, you're her sort of boyfriend. Move outta my spot."

Clary was one of those people who didn't really have a clique, rotating to different lunch tables often. The group she frequented most was her brother's football player friends. They would sit under the large oak tree behind the school, an odd mixture of soccer players, football players, and Clary and her friends.

Maia, an exotic looking girl with honey brown skin, mixed into the odd group surprisingly well, her tough girl attitude and adventurous spirit making her quite a hit with the guys. Unfortunately for them, she was taken, choosing to spend lunch with her head resting in the lap of her boyfriend Jordan Kyle, the center midfield player on the soccer team. Jordan was a large muscular boy, with shaggy hair and a kind nature. His sweet disposition was contrasted by his tendency to talk without thinking, and his frequent perverted comments about Maia. With anyone else, these comments would have been wildly inappropriate, but they complimented Maia's brash personality perfectly.

Clary would sit next to Jonathan, or toss a hacky sack around with Jason, Cameron, Zach and Sebastian. The four boys were on the football team with Jonathan, and treated her in the way one might treat their little sister and a precious princess.

Aline, a gorgeous and bisexual cheerleader, was the life of the party. Her ever- revolving round of girlfriends and/or boyfriends was always the joke of the group. Luckily, her relationships always ended in smiles, or the impact would have dragged down the group. Unfortunately, Aline came with several downsides, also called Kaelie and her entourage of giggling cheerleaders.

The typically underdressed girls would lounge on the laps of the boys, giggling in high pitched yaps. They stuck out like a sore thumb, and everyone knew it. The girls tried to fit in, but they didn't belong to the original group.

Even they, however, fit in more than the awkward Simon who looked like a fish out of water. He would grasp Clary's hand, and glance longing over at his nerd friends. Clary had repeatedly told him to go over and join them, but he refused to leave her with the boys. Knowing the second he left the boys would hit on her with joking abandon.

Spring Break would be over on Monday, a mere two days away, and she looked forward to being among her friends again. She dreaded seeing Simon again. She felt an odd sense of responsibility for the boy. He had been so selfless when Jace had left. After he asked her to call it off with Jace, he was so nice about Jace's nightly calls. He accepted that they made her feel better, and he was cool with her listening to his voice at night. Until a year later when the calls stopped. Cold turkey.

Clary knew Jace would never like her- they were as different as could be. But she needed to start making decisions that made her happy. Starting with Simon. Just because her and Jace weren't meant to be, didn't mean she couldn't start working on a relationship that gave her real happiness. First thing Monday she was finally going to flirt back with the boisterous boys she hung out with. But first she needed to talk to Simon. He deserved to be told in person.

She dried her eyes on her sleeve and walked towards Simon's house. Following the familiar streets with ease, she fought with her guilt, forcing herself to keep walking towards the decision she dreaded with all her heart. Clary feared letting people down, she hated the thought of disappointing anyone. Ever since her father, a drunk man with little ambition, had spent the years of her early life telling her about all of her short comings she lived in constant fear of not being good enough.

Jonathan and the boys defended her fiercely. Anyone caught insulting Clary faced the wrath of the entire football and soccer team. As well as that of the art geeks, and the nerds who would exact their rather hilarious pranks on the offender with reckless abandon. Most fearsome of all, however, was the rage of the uninhibited Maia, or one of the famous long holding grudges of Aline, who exacted revenge in creative and unusual ways. It was a nice reassurance to know that no matter what, she would always have support, particularly at times like this when she knew for certain that she was about to hurt the feelings of the innocent and boyish Simon.

She turned down the final block separating her from Simon's house and walked faster, wanting to get the whole thing over with. She walked up the walkway and raised her hand to knock. As she raised her hand she was hit with doubts. Did she really want to break the heart of the boy who helped her get over Jace? Did she want to ruin the one relationship where she knew she was loved in more than a friendship way? After hesitating for another minute, she knocked firmly on the wooden door. A series of loud bangs followed by Simons voice yelling at his overly friendly dog to move out of the way. He opened up the door and stared at her with a confused expression. "Clary?"

"Simon... can we talk?"


	12. Chapter 12

Hey there readers,

So I had to let my recent beta go, and I'm looking for a new beta to help out. I need someone whose good with punctuation and story advice, my spelling is fine. More than anything I really wanna stress that I'm on a deadline in real life with this story so I need someone who can get a draft back to me THE NEXT DAY. I generally write chapters very quickly, though due to my communication troubles with my previous beta I've slowed down updates quite a bit. But I want to pick up the pace again so quick updates are a must. Also I write very emotional stories with complex characters so I love outside opinions on the scenes in my book. If you wanna be the lucky reader who receives a draft a little earlier than the world then PM or review!

Peaceinapod


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey there readers,  
So as you all know this book is going to be published. I am a real life publishing author, but I post on here because your feedback in reviews encourages me. In the next couple months the final version will be available in printed format and as an ebook. The names will be changed so Cassie Clare doesn't sue me, but the story will be the same.**

**On that note, I hate to burst your bubble, but only part of the book will be available online. When it comes nearer to the end I will stop posting the chapters online and you'll have to buy the book the find out the ending. At the time when I stop posting there will be a very short wait period where the book is being printed. While that is happening most of the book will still be up, but after that I'll delete most of the book but a small preview.**

**Closer to the time it's printed I will figure out a way for you all to order the book online, but in the meantime I have a poll going so that those of you who are interested can lemme know what book format you would like. It's on my profile, so just pop over for a visit and let me know!**

**Also I read this and loved it so I thought I'd put it on here, but just cause I hate plagiarism I thought I would let you all know that I totally stole this from Shadowhunta213.**

**Let's all go back to our first story. You'd signed up for your account, waited patiently for the waiting period before new users could post stories. And then, finally, you hit the post story button, and waited. Don't we all remember how excited we were when we checked the review count and see we'd actually gotten a review. We didn't even care if it was a three word "Good chapter, update." (even though we wished for more.) And as the reviews came in, you felt that smile creep across your face. The excitement (however small) you get when you see the review count go up is always enjoyable.**

**Are we really so cruel as to deny someone that feeling? It only takes five minutes tops. Join the revolution, take the pledge and paste this onto your profile.**

**I, Shadowhunta213, pledge to always try to thoughtfully review every chapter of every story I read. I pledge to not leave (too many) flames and offer advice as much as possible. I pledge to raise the review count, one chapter at a time**

**And that's it folks! Hope you enjoy!**

Jace sat on the splintering wood of the swing on his front porch. The cat was curled into his side, as if sensing his inner turmoil. The cat just comes out of no where, explain where he came from. Maybe he was at the house when they arrived? Maryse and Robert tried to get rid of him but Isabelle protested, saying he was like another orphan. The gentle spring breeze rocked the swing back and forth, gently and rhythmically. His foot dangled off, gently pushing against the porch, helping the breeze do it's job.

The faint smell of damp grass and dew accompanied the early morning glow of sunrise. All around him the sounds of morning broke the silence,. aAnimals stirred from their naps, and birds chirped their sweet songs add a bit more, this scentance just doesn't sound complete. A line of small birds was lined up on top of the telephone wire across the street, their tiny voices blending together to form a melody as lovely as any song. The neighborsneighbor's dog barked its complaints against the tantalizing squirrel, always out of reach.

Inside the house, the sounds of the old coffee maker groaned and grindned in protest. The TV faintly uttered the muffled sounds of Nikita, Isabelle's latest obsession., it was a suspenseful lady-killer TV show. Max's off pitch voice gleefully shouted the words to pop goes the weasel. Alec's voice shouted indignant complaints about Max's repetitive singing,. Max, as any little sibling does, was enjoying Alec's annoyance very much and responded only by singing louder.

Next to Jace the cat stirred, clenching and un-clenching his paws he began to kneed Jace's thigh. The cat, though well intentioned, had forgotten how sharp his claws were and was digging them into Jace's skin painfully. Jace, roused from thought, pushed the cat off his lap saying, "BegoneBe gone with you, domesticated beast, find me a mouse or squashed beetle."

Church hopped back on his lap, rubbing against his chest and purred,ing as if to say, "Don't you love me."

Jace chuckled and scratched behind Church's furry ears. He'd always wondered why the cat was named Church,Church; it didn't really matter to him, because he usually just called him Cat. He was struck with an idea suddenly, and dumped the cat unceremoniously off his lap. Church glared after his retreating form with distaste, licking his paws disapprovingly in that way only cats can pull off.

Jace darted into the door, returning not two seconds later with the bejeweled leash that Isabelle had purchased months ago, much to the cats displeasure. Church backed away warily, not sure whether to scratch him, or trust the only thoughtful member of the family. Unable to make up his mind, he settled for crouching and glaring at the tall boy.

Jace reached down and picked up the fat cat, giving him a few scratches under the chin to pacify him. He clipped on the nauseatingly pink harness with its accompanying leash and strode down the walkway. Pacified that Jace was only carrying him, unlike Izzy's failed attempt to get him to walk on the leash months ago, which ended in him being dragged around the lawn on his side., Hhe relaxed into Jace's arms and rubbed his head against Jace's chin passionately.

Jace grabbed his bike from the garage, and placed Church in the padded bike basket. Church, who was not so sure of this whole thing, crouched into one corner of the bike basket's lined interior.

Jace closed the mesh top of the bike basket with a click and slowly pedaled down the street, the wind pushing his hair back from his face. Church peeked up suspiciously, still not trusting this moving abomination. Jace pedaled off the suburban street, turning onto the path towards the barn.

Church by now was completely relaxed, peeking his head over the small crack between bike basket and mesh lid. The fur on his ears ruffled in the wind, and his big eyes were wide as they roved over the fascinating new world as it passed by. Church leaned forward excitedly, oblivious to Jace's uncharacteristic quietness. Jace was rather quiet and relaxed... well, more so than he had been for the past day or so.

Jace kept running the events in the playground through his head, over and over again. As if the repetition would somehow change the events, make her jump into his arms and declare her love for him.

Jace understood her side of the events, he was glad she had someone who made her happy. He wouldn't have wanted her to be sad, buteven if it hurt that she loved Simon and not him. That part was like a thorn in his side, a constant bitter jealousy that cut into his heart.

He wasn't sure why he'd said what he had about not liking her anyways. Perhaps it was because he was afraid of being the guy who rolled over and begged for a girl who didn't like him back,. Pperhaps it was because he wanted to make her jealous. It was probably the latter option, but he preferred not to think about it.

He hated the idea of going back to school tomorrow;. Tthe dreaded Monday brought the return of school. He was going to school with all of the kids he'd gone to elementary school with, which some howsomehow made facing them again worse.

Back in the day it had always been Clary and Jace, a single person in two bodies. Now it was just him and a whole bunch of people who actually knew him. It was bad enough, that for the first time in a long time, he had to be real with people., bBut the fact that Izzy and Alec were going to the same school as him, where they could very easily find out more about him, was worse.

At least he still had his gorgeous, asshole of a player facade going. That was some comfort at least. He pulled his bike to a stop, leaning it against a tree and pulling the happy cat out of the basket. He grabbed the leash, vowing to get one that didn't remind him of pepto-bismalPepto-Bismol. He slowly wandered into the barn, holding thesaid leash which was connected to a meandering cat. Jace's reduced speed, a side effect of having to stop and wait for the curious, and somewhat entitled cat.

When they finally got into the barn he closed the door behind him and let the cat off the leash to go happily hunt the local mice population. He turned away from the gleeful cat and made to climb up the haystack. He stopped short when his eyes fell on Clary's curled up form.

She sat on the edge of the haystack with her knees curled up against her chest, nervously rocking back and forth. Jace climbed the rest of the way up and sat down softly. He nudged her with his elbow to let her know he was there and then they fell into a comfortable silence.

Neither of them dared to break the silence, both of them unsure what to say. Finally Church broke the moment with a loud crash as he knocked over an easel in his daring pursuit of a plump grey mouse. Clary grinned, thenand then turned to Jace with an apprehensive expression on her small face.

"I've been thinking about what I said...I realized that anywayany way you look at it, feelings were hurt. I'm not going to apologize for trying to be happy, but in your time of need, I bailed on you. And for that I am sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you in your new life."

Jace wiped away the tear that slipped out of the corner of her eye with his thumb. "You remember when you asked me if I was mad, and I said I was furious?"

Clary nodded, not quite understanding. "You said you were mad, but you didn't want it to interfere with what we have now."

Jace nodded softly, "Well, I was mad, but not for what you think. I was mad that you found a way to be happy and that all I had was a horde of angry one night stands. I was mad that I couldn't be like you and let people in."

Clary sniffed, and wiped her eyes. "I wasn't happy."

Jace's eyebrows drew together in a confused look. "What?"

"I said I wasn't happy. You know I broke up with Simon yesterday,. I guess I always knew that we didn't have chemistry, but I didn't want to admit it to myself. I just want you to know...the only reason I asked you to stop calling was because Simon threatened to leave me if I didn't devote myself to the relationship. I was terrified of being alone again,again; I guess I'd gotten used to always having my best friend all the time, and when you left, it left me with this big hole in my life."

Jace flinched a little at her use of the word friend, much to Clary's confusion. "You know, I shouldn't feel this way, but I'm glad you broke up. I want you to be happy, but I was a little jealous of him taking my place."

Clary giggled. "What is it with you men and your irrational protectiveness? You and my brother are gonna make sure I'm single for the rest of my life...but just so you know, you'll always be my best friend."

Jace grinned, liking the sound of single forever. "Well at least you'll make all the ladies jealous," he winked at her her and continued, ."You get to hang out with the single, hottest man in town."

Clary grinned, slipping back into their old joking ways. "Well aren't you quite the chivalrous gentleman."

Jace stood up and bowed offering her his hand. Clary took it giggling, and Jace dumped her over his shoulder with a soft thump. Clary giggled and pounded her small fists against his back. "Careful you scoundrel! My army of high school boys shall sweep me way any minute now."

Jace grinned saying only, "Well now, such a fine princess as you must only be destined for a prince charming, such as myself."

Clary grinned into his back, still pounding her fists. "Who says you're mythe Prince Charming? I've got my own bunch of high school boys to choose from. Maybe my magical lips will turn one of those frogs into my very own prince."

Unseen to Clary, Jace's expression sobered turning sorrowful for one brief instant, before he pasted a grin on his face once again. "Ah yes, but my fiendishly good looks will pull you to me. You see my god-like body is so attractive that its magical pull attracts all the ladies. Any second now you'll be bowing and kissing my feet as you profess your love."

Clary gave a very unladylike snort and began to tickle him. "I know of the perfect maiden for a magician such as you."

Jace also snorted, "Do tell me of this maiden."

Clary giggled. "Well she can make her clothinged disappear the second any semi-attractive guy enters the castle. Oh! She also has the magical ability to technically follow the dress code and still be basically naked."

Jace stopped grinning abruptly. "My type exactly." If Clary could see his face becoming more serious as he realized this was not going as planned.

He grinned a little and said, "These godlike lips can only be graced upon a select few."

Clary, not catching the unsaid double meaning, said, "Yes, well her godlike lips also have the ability to bestoweth upon thee a gift of herpes."

An hour of borderline ridiculous mid-evil insults later, Jace and Clary hugged goodbye. Church had been reluctantly rounded up and dumped into the bike basket, with Jace's promise to bring the happy cat back again. Clary walked off in the other direction towards her house, while Jace went the opposite direction towards his house. He looked forward to school much more now, after his argument with her had been put to rest.

He had been so close to pulling her off his shoulder and kissing her so many times, but he mentally chastised himself. We're only friends, he repeated over and over again in his mind.

Clary meanwhile slowly walked towards Luke's house with a slight grin still on her face. She had been so close to telling Jace how she felt, up on thate haystack. She had been so close to pulling him to her and kissing him again. But she had stopped herself. She repeated over and over in her mind, he doesn't like me.

As if the mantra could stop her growing feelings in their tracks. She knew he was a player, that when school started he would date other girls. It was time to try for a new relationship, with one of Johnathon's boys. If he was gonna date girls, then she would date guys.

Jace, still heading home, told himself over and over to move on. He made a pact with himself to date girls... there had to be some good lays in this town, right? If she was gonna date boys, he was gonna date girls.


	14. Chapter 15

**Please read previous chapter before reading this one.**

****As promised courtesy of my wonderful beta:)

On Monday morning Jace stood under the scalding water of the shower. The hot beads of water ran in rivulets down his toned back, and steam billowed up in voluminous clouds. The glass of the shower was completely steamed over with vapor. The air inside the shower was quite hot, rivaling the temperatures inside a sauna. Outside of the shower, however, was the frigid cold of the early morning. Outside the sky was still a dark grey, touches of color just barely beginning to show in the dim light.

Jace ran his hand through his soapy hair, letting the water run over his face. He had always been the type of person who did all his deep thinking in the shower, taking unnecessarily long showers much to Izzy's annoyance. Now he relished the sting of the hot water against his skin, taking in the morning and procrastinating his exit into freezing morning air.

He used the time to mentally prepare himself for his first day at his old school. He chuckled thinking of the speech that Jonathan always gave him about how he would personally beat Jace up if he so much as thought about hurting Clary.

He wasn't sure whether to be excited or annoyed by seeing Kaelie again. She had obviously been busy, taking the trouble to sleep with every semi-decent looking guy at school. Kaelie had obviously been the "maiden" that Clary had spoken of the other day. Kaelie had been into him way before he moved away; in fact she had spent most of the time he'd been in town trying desperately to get him to pay attention to her. She was one of those people who wasn't interested in being with a guy as much as she was interested in the status if gave her. The fact that he gave all his attention to Clary had always been a thorn in her half naked side.

Kaelie was the type of person that has to have the attention on her at all times, in fact she reveled in being the girl every guy sought after. So another girl getting the attention of a guy as popular as Jace had made her jealous to the point of being crazy. Jace was sure he could count on using Kaelie to make Clary jealous, but he didn't want to be that guy that was afraid of putting himself out there, and who used desperate plays to get noticed.

He'd felt a little insulted when Clary assumed he was into girls like Kaelie, which was weird because before he moved back she would have been exactly his type. Maybe it was because she just assumed he was only into girls like Kaelie, and not into girls like Clary. He knew he should be interested in Kaelie, since Clary very clearly wasn't interested him but he didn't want to be into bimbos anymore, all he wanted was Clary.

By now the sun had risen, decorating the sky with a vibrant rainbow of smeared colors. The golden light fell dramatically over the small city, decorating the streets with soft hues of fuzzy light. The sounds of his family could be heard in the background. A few minutes later Izzy marched into the bathroom, not caring about his nakedness. One of the unfortunate drawbacks of siblings was that they were all so familiar with each other that any boundaries were long ago ruined by the over-all obnoxious way they treated each other. At the present moment, Izzy opened the shower door with a grumpy, half asleep morning face. She reached in and turned the water on the absolute coldest setting. Jace yelped and backed into the farthest corner away from the water.

Izzy glared at him through groggy eyes, running her fingers through her bed head. She spoke in a half groan, half slur, "Out!" She pointed with one long finger at the door. "Some of us need to shower, and your philosophical pondering isn't helping. It takes time to look gorgeous you know!"

Jace took the handheld nozzle and pointed it right at her face. The water blasted her full force, drenching her flannel pajamas and flattening her matted bed head. Izzy spluttered with indigence drawing back her hand to slap him, but Jace had grabbed a towel and ran out the door. He wrapped the towel around his waist as he ran, and turned into his room. He collapsed on his bed laughing jovially.

Across town, Clary stumbled out of the shower. She grabbed the first items of clothing she saw and through them on. Brushing her hair with one hand, she threw on a coat of mascara with the other. Grabbing her book bag she stuffed last night's homework in haphazardly and dashed down the stairs. She ran down the first set of stairs, sliding down the bannister of the second set. Pouring herself a cup of coffee she sat down on one of Luke's tall stools, finally taking a minute to pause and enjoy the warm beverage. The sunlight filtered through the farm house window, the songs of woodland birds dancing in the air.

About fifteen minutes later, Luke came out of his room. His paint stained t-shirt tucked partially into his faded jeans. Even though Luke was more of a rock kinda guy, Clary always told him he looked like the embodiment of a country song. The fact that they lived fifteen minutes outside of town didn't help either.

Clary hopped off the stool and grabbed her bag from the table. Luke grabbed the keys to his pickup and strode out the door into warm sunshine. Clary jogged to keep up with his long strides, stumbling here and there in the bumpy dirt road.

Once in the car, Clary and Luke settled into their usual comfortable silence. Luke finally spoke up, "I heard Jace is back in town."

"Yeah, he moved back with his new family, the Lightwoods."

Luke looked a little surprised, "What did you think of them?"

Clary laughed, "The mom is a little off putting, but if you sit down and talk with her she's nice. Alec the oldest is kinda odd, but in a good way. Isabelle, who's the same age as Jace, is kind of... girly, but in a fierce way. Max is adorable, he's the youngest."

Luke chuckled at Clary's description of Izzy. "I always liked the kid. Hey make sure to tell him to come get a key for the barn if he hasn't gone back yet. The barn belongs to both of you, and I've always loved the way his face lights up when he's there."

Clary grinned, "As if he would ever lose that key! I swear, someday his gravestone will read 'Jace Lightwood... and key.'"

Luke laughed outright at this, "So how are you two? You happy he's back?"

Clary sobered slightly, "He's good. And of course I'm happy my best friend is back!"

Luke gave her a thoughtful look. "I always thought if you saw him again, you'd declare your undying love, and kiss him like people do in romantic movies."

Clary snorted loudly.

Luke's face grew slightly terrified and more than a little apprehensive. "Speaking of kissing, do we need to have the talk?"

Luke's face was red from ear to ear, but compared to Clary's cherry red face, his face looked perfectly calm.

Clary stammered out awkwardly, "Umm... STDs, condoms, no getting pregnant, boys are evil, and choose a guy who thinks with his brain not his dick. There we're done; I said it all for you."

She paused, fidgeting a little uncomfortably, next to the equally uncomfortable Luke. "Tell you what; I'm thinking I might just walk the last couple blocks to school. You can let me out here."

Luke pulled over looking very relieved. "Bye kiddo. Good talk..."

By the time Clary got to school the bell rang just as she walked through the door. She took a seat next to a disgruntled Alec in the back corner of the room. They spent the next hour passing a hilarious series of notes, detailing every way they could get revenge on Mr. Stewart, their uptight math teacher.

Time passed in a blur of conversations, homework, assignments, and lectures. Finally, after what seemed like forever, it was lunch. Clary grabbed her tray from the cafeteria and headed out into the courtyard. She spotted her friends waving at her under their usual tree. She jogged over.

Aline met her half way, throwing her arm around Clary's shoulders. "Finally you're here! I wasn't sure I could survive another minute of being the only girl in a group of male idiots."

Clary giggled, "What did they do now?"

Aline snorted, "Oh the usual nonsense. You know men...always thinking with their penises!"

Clary doubled over laughing, her shoulders shaking with amusement. The boys, who were in hearing range by now, shouted a chorus of indignant cries. Jonathan shot a playful glance at Aline. "You weren't talking about me I hope."

Aline rolled her eyes and sat down next to him. "Well... I don't know. You be pretty nice."

Jonathan held his hand to his mouth in mock hurt. "Only pretty nice! How you injure me woman."

Aline laughed at that, "Oh, don't get you panties in a twist."

Jonathan picked her up and ran away towards the fields with her laughing cargo held in his long arms. Behind his retreating form was the sound of his playful shouting. "I'll show you who the big man is!"

Cameron snorted loudly. "When are those two gonna get together already? The sexual tension is so thick I could cut it with a knife!"

Clary laughed hopping down from her perch on the low brick wall. Grabbing a soccer ball she dribbled it lightly between her feet. Looking at him with a daring glance she said, "You think you can beat me?"

Cameron got up, "What! Beat your short, girly ass? Bring it on!"

Clary laughed and pulled him out onto the field. They squared up in front of each other, bending over slightly in their athletic stance. Cameron looked up and said, "Ladies first!"

Clary shot him a smile, "Suit yourself." She took the ball and darted around him, dodging his efforts to steal the ball. Running down the field she shouted over her shoulder, "Catch me if you can sucker!"

She made it halfway down the field before Cameron caught up with her. He sneaked up behind her, and grabbed her around the waist. Clary giggled loudly, reaching around and pounding on his chest with her fists. "Hey! No fair!"

Cameron's eyes narrowed with a lustful look in their hazel depths. "With a pretty girl like you as the prize, I could never play fair."

Clary was filled with an odd sort of anticipation, but most of all with an odd sense that this kiss wasn't right. In front of her Cameron leaned forward, gazing into her eyes as if searching for something. All the sudden Clary froze, her body going stiff momentarily.

Cameron stopped leaning, "What's wrong."

Clary pointed over his shoulder at a figure coming closer. Jace strode forward quickly, his gaze stormy. Clary broke out of Cameron's grasp to go to him. She reached out her hand, resting it on his elbow. "What's wrong Jace? Did something happen?"

Jace seemed to relax at her touch. "Nothing happened, I'm fine."

Clary gave him a doubtful glance.

Cameron came up to them with a confused face. "Hey man. Long-time no see."

Jace avoided the boy's eyes. "Yeah, good to see you too Cameron."

Cameron glanced back and forth through between them. "Hey it sounds like you guys have to talk, so I'm gonna go."

Cameron turned and ran back toward the group, as Jace's gaze stayed locked with Clary's. "Sorry to interrupt your little make-out session with soccer boy."

"It was hardly a make-out session."

Jace didn't look too guilty about interrupting; in fact he looked rather relieved. He gazed at her for another minute before asking, "Do you wanna go somewhere? Just the two of us?"

Clary nodded her agreement, and Jace grabbed her hand. He pulled her to him for a long minute, crushing her against his chest, before he let go and led her towards small private spot. The small stand of trees was out of the way, hidden from prying eyes, it was the perfect spot to relax just the two of them.

Jace sat down, leaning against a tall oak tree. He spread his legs and Clary sat down in between them, leaning back against his solid chest. After another moment of comfortable silence he spoke again, "So... soccer boy?"


	15. Chapter 17

"So...soccer boy."

Clary paused unsure what to say, and an awkward silence filled the air with malleable tension. Jace pulled her to him as he struggled with his warring emotions. Clary leaned back against him.

"He has a name Jace. C'mon you've known Cameron since you were five."

Jace's face resembled that of the look one might have if they bit into a lemon. "That was before he started swapping spit with my ... best friend."

Clary turned her head to look at Jace, who was still sitting with her in between his spread legs. Turning her head around that far was slightly painful, so she gave up and rotated it back to it's natural position. " You can hardly call it swapping spit, you charged in before we even kissed."

Jace changed tactics. "So you admit you were gonna kiss that tool?"

Clary scrunched up her eyebrows in a childishly cute expression. "No...yes... when did we start arguing about that? God.. I don't know. Why are we even talking about this?"

Jace stared into the trees with a troubled look in his golden brown eyes. " I just... I don't know. You grew up with him, you've heard the way he talks when his girl friend of the time isn't in the room."

Clary turned indignantly, not remembering until too late that she couldn't turn her head around that far. Grabbing her tweaked neck, she uttered a faint "Ow."

Huffing, she let out a loud prolonged sigh. "Jace I grew up around guys my entire life. All the guys I know talk trash when their not watching their manners in front of their girl friends. But that doesn't change the fact that their great guys I would trust with my life!"

Jace tried to find a way to argue with one of the things he loved most about her laid back attitude. " I just think that you should wait for the right guy Clary. You know you don't have chemistry with Cameron."

Clary sighed. "Your right, but that doesn't change the fact that it's none of your damn business!"

Jace chuckled quietly, secretly relieved to hear her admission. "I make it my business. Your my best friend, I love you more than anything."

Clary leaned back into his chest with an inaudible sigh, and Jace squeezed her tighter. "It's nice to have you back Jace. I'm not sure what I would have done without you."

Jace stared deep into the undergrowth, as if searching for something but not actually seeing. "It's good to be back."

Clary stared with him, taking in the same bushes and branches but not seeing any of it. "Just you and me against the world."

Clary stirred and Jace instinctively pulled her closer to him. She laughed softly, "Relax Jace I'm just grabbing this."

She pulled her battered Ipod from the front pocket of her school bag. Scrolling through the music she stopped on Paralyzer by Finger Eleven. Setting it on a nearby stump she stood up. Moving her hips back and forth and dancing in a style most like what you get when you have an odd mix of sexy and clumsy. Jace leaned back watching her with a smile.

Turning towards Jace she smiled, throwing her head back and laughing. Beckoning him towards her with one hand she stuck her tongue out at him. Jace pushed himself up laughing. They took turns trading ridiculous dance moves until Jace finally came up behind her. Wrapping his arms around her they slowed into a rhythmic swaying motion.

Jace tucked his face into her hair, breathing in the scent of strawberries. Clary leaned her head back against his shoulder. Jace was struck with the utter serenity of the moment. It was as if for that one second everything fell into place and the world made sense. An rush of courage caused him to open his mouth, about to utter a heartfelt confession. "I..."

Clary paused, "You what?"

Jace shook his head. "Never mind."

* * *

So if you read chapter sixteen you'll know that I was pretty shook up by a review. But I calmed down alot and realized that more than anything I was upset about being judged as a person and not an author when she didn't even know me.

I'm buddhist though (my family is christian but I am buddhist). One of the things I grew up hearing at meditation gatherings was to always accept criticism. But when doing that to separate the criticism into two parts: the helpful feedback and angry lash-outs.

So that is what I tried to do in my AN, accept the good part and acknowledge my feelings. I realized that what I'd rather do is celebrate other helpful criticisms and lay that one to rest. As the saying goes, anger only brings more anger.

So here goes :)

_I really like the story, but try not to go overboard on them being secretly-in-love-but-not-saying-so-because-they-think-the-other-doesn't-like-them. It's a very cliche topic and common plot/conflict used in stories and I don't want this to turn into one of those hair-pulling frustrating-overly used plot line stories that I go on to hate. It has so much potential: don't kill it with a cliche ._

This one was from anonymous-storyline and I like it because it let me know my readers were wearing down and to mix in other elements like playful moments and jealousy.

Most importantly thought I got this back from unscenced and I appreciated that instead of hating it told me how I could do it better. Which I admire and want to publicly acknowledge is helpful and appreciated.

_So you want an improvement comment? Make something happen. Your whole story is just character development, and although that is good, nothing really happens. Maybe you have some really unexpected twit at the end, I don't know but there needs to me a plot other than Clary and Jace's feelings for one another else it wont be more than a FanFicion._

In light of that, I am thinking about how to add more umph to the upcoming chapters. So I'd love more criticism but try to tell me suggestions for how to fix it instead of hating. :)

Faye R

P.S. For those of you that asked my book will be on amazon, kindle, nook, and a couple of indie book fairs. Nothing huge, but still a pretty good start. As for title, I have no idea yet but I'm taking suggestions.


	16. Chapter 16

Hey Readers,

Its been a busy couple of months and its been nice to write for myself for a little while. A review alert from a fan called Iamchris reminded me that I have readers who have stuck with me through the drama, and I would like to think that they love these characters as much as I do.

For all of these wonderful and supportive readers, I would like you to know that you can expect an update within the week. Sorry for the long wait, its finally over :)

Also I've been getting some questions that I thought I would answer.

First of all, you guys are right. This version is rough and unpolished. I've gotten lots of comments on this, but just know that I am aware of this already. This is because what you guys are reading is the very first drafts. By now I have revised past this, but for my sake I publish the unedited version (discounting the work my WONDERFUL beta knightshadealpha does). It helps me to have to two completely separate versions to get feedback and compare.

I take your feedback to heart and it helps me make my story better. Your suggestions help me grow as a writer and for that I am thankful. I like to think that every one of my readers who takes the time to comment, not just their opinion but also helpful and constructive criticism. I may be the wirter, but much of this stories development is because of you... the readers. Thank you.

Second of all,if you don't already know, this is just the beginning and that the ending will be part of a published novel. However, alot of people have been asking me things like, "Why are you even posting this if we have to go and get the final product?" I am doing this because while the experience hasn't been exclusively good, this gives me the chance to get to communicate and respond to my readers before it hits the shelves. (also refer back to previous question). Mostly though, while I love being the broke writer struggling with my rampant creativity while living a life just begging to be made into a tragic and poorly made movie... I love eating more. No, I was just kidding about most of that, but really this is how I make a living.

Third of all, as you are reading this, there are people reading and rereading the final versions. Legally I have to change the names of the characters to avoid copyright infringement. Alot of people on here have been saying that even if I change the name, Cassandra Clare can still sue me. I want you to know that legally I CAN do this. In my story, there is no trace of Cassandra Clare's fantasy element, plot line, setting etc. While the characters may have been inspired by hers, in the process of writing this story they have grown and changed into entirely new characters.

I have put off renaming them for as long as I can but in the next few weeks I will be faced with making that decision. Part of why I have put it off for so long is that over my extended break I realized that even though earlier I said that these characters belong to me, they belong to each and every reader who has read this story and learned to love them as much as I do. If you have read this story then you will have gotten to know them to some extent, and therefore you should know them as well as anyone. So I am asking you, my readers, who do you feel they are. What names fit these characters?

Comment or review with suggestions that you have. I look forward to hearing from you.

Sorry for the wait,

Faye.

P.S. If you have stuck with me through the drama and are reading this now then thank you for sticking with me through all the shit. You will also have probably noticed that I have erased it from my page. I am the type of person that once I have said my piece, I walk away and let it go. So for now this page is for my story, not for drama.

I do want to say that I am not entirely right on the issue, but I'm not wrong either.

I am sorry if this is a bit sudden for you, but I have moved on. Whether you are with me or against me, if you have some unresolved feelings on the issue... make a forum or something. If you really want me to, I will hear your thoughts there. Not here.

Mostly why I am telling you this is because, while it pained me, I have deleted many of your reviews. Supportive or unsupportive, positive or negative, if it was about all the drama I deleted it. And I am sorry to those you who I have deleted. I know you took your time to write on my page, and I have decided to make this page about this story but that doesn't mean I don't value your time.

P.P.S. Even though I should have, I couldn't find the heart to delete a review from an anonymous writer called "ok." I strongly suggest you to go and read that review, because even though she/he is clearly not the biggest fan of mine, the review is so incredibly thoughtful and helpful that it literally made me cry (with joy not sadness.) So thank you to who ever you are. In my opinion this is what fanfiction was meant for. If everyone wrote like "ok" then fanfiction would be an incredible force of good. Thank you.


	17. Chapter 18

**Hey everyone, sorry this update is so short. the next update will be up very soon. **

Clary and Jace had been spending every waking moment together since the "soccer boy" incident. By some unspoken rule they sat together, ate together, and worked together. When lunch came they met by the spot that Clary always ate with her friends. Jace would sit down by the wall, and clary would come and sit in between his legs, leaning against his firm chest. The others, who already knew Jace from elementary and middle school greeted him with fondness and didn't question their inseparable bond. To an outsider they appeared happy, carefree, and content. But between them the tension was building at a rapid pace.

Jace was touchy and almost chronically moody. When Clary gave so much as the casual impression of flirting he was at her side in second. Grumpily inserting himself in the conversation in an abrasive exasperated fashion. His behavior was outwardly obnoxious but to the observant eye he was overwhelming sad. His shoulders slumped with exhaustion and melancholy and his eyes spoke of unshed tears.

He threw himself into flirting with girls. As if maybe he could find the right girl and forget about Clary. Clary, who had never been a subtle type of girl, was open in telling him what an idiot he was. Using colorful words to forcefully express her opinion on Jace's "hoes" with vehement exasperation that only a woman could pull off.

The biggest cause for the growing tension, however was the party coming up on Saturday. Aline's annual birthday party was the party of the year. Not necessarily because it was expensive or overly rowdy, but because it was extravagant in its own simplistic way.

True to form Aline's parties were always hilarious, cozy, crazy, and especially quirky. The party was thrown without much "frou frou" as Aline referred to it. She purposely left out the expensive location and exotic details. The party was going to be thrown at a small clearing in the woods. The edge of the clearing bordered on a small lake with a tall cascading waterfall. At night the moonlight hit the leaves at just the right angle to create a slivery, blue glow that sparkled softly. The breeze wafted gently into the nose, bringing with it the fresh scent of clean laundry, and midnight dew.

Aline enlisted Clary's help every year with the decorations. After many hours of hard work, the final product was a clearing wrapped in thousands of sparkling Christmas lights. Floating lanterns were sent out onto the bay like miniature bobbing moons frolicking in the spring water.

Obviously, however, the party itself wasn't the source of the tension. The real source of tension was the numerous requests both Jace and Clary had received from eager friends looking for a date to the infamous party.

While neither of them had actually accepted any of the invitations, the implication of the requests loomed over their heads like a storm cloud waiting for the right moment to pour down tears and fuel their anger with thunder.

Though they seemed, to the outside eye to be fine, they both knew that someone was going to snap...and soon.


End file.
